


As red as the leaves

by Circ_a



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, Gen, Pre - A Game of Thrones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Circ_a/pseuds/Circ_a
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't like her hair being brushed like Sansa does, but she loves brushing her mothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As red as the leaves

It was well past evenfall in Winterfell; signifying Septa Mordane to finally take her leave and bring her awful needlework and combs with her. Arya's Septa had noticed the way her hair was nearly matted to her scalp with sweat and mud, tangles throughout the mop on her head. It had taken a good while for the hot-comb to work out the last bit of kinked hair. She even had Arya practicing her stitches as she grabbed handfuls of brunette hair and willed the mats to straighten out.

Septa Mordane placed the hot-comb aside and threaded her fingers through the greasy hair and began to braid. 

Arya lurched forward in her seat and dropped her needlework to the ground. Septa Mordane sighed. "Arya Stark if you do not keep still your lady mother will hear of this!"

"Please Septa I can do it myself," Arya turned to plead "I know how to do it and your braiding hurts me."

"Oh hush now child and keep still." The Septa's hands touched the ends of Arya's hair and Arya nearly shrieked "Septa Mordane please let me do it!"

The Septa rolled her eyes and unbraided a single chain. "By the morrow if your hair isn't braided I'll see to it that you'll be helping Tonya scrub the grime and muck from the Great Hall's floor." 

Arya quickly nodded her head and Septa Mordane took her leave. When the door clanked shut, Arya scurried about her chamber looking for her sandals, she pushed on the glass of her window to see if the fire in the hearth of her parents' room had not yet gone out. She smiled.

Slipping out and not being seen by the guards that walked the halls at night was the hardest part; by the time Arya had finally made it her parents' chamber door, her chest was heaving and her hands were on her knobby knees. The door creaked open.

"Arya? Why aren't you in bed child?" 

Arya's head snapped up at the sleepy sound of her mother's voice. Her long wavy auburn hair fell down over her shoulders, mussed by sleep.

Arya bit her lip. She didn't really know what to say. "I . . . I had nightmares." 

Catelyn smiled and tilted her head to the side. "I thought my little Arya Stark wasn't shaken by dreams." Arya furrowed her brow. "I'm not! I just, this was different." Shaking her head with a sigh a Catelyn put a hand on Arya's shoulder and led her inside of her room.

Arya pulled up a chair to the hearth and warmed her hands close to the flames. 

"I've lived long enough to know when a child makes an excuse to see their mother." Catelyn brings a seat next to Arya and puts her hands in her lap. Arya purses her lips and doesn't say a word. They sat like that for a while, soaking in the heat from the fire in silence until Arya looks at her mother and says "Could I brush your hair?"

Catelyn gave her a puzzled look for a moment, she then stood and took a black widetooth comb and put it in Arya's hand. Those grey eyes smiled up at her.

Catelyn took a sheet and laid it on the wooden floors before she sat crossed legged in front of the fire. Arya held the comb in hand and started at the root of her mother's hair and worked the comb down half-way until she pulled the rest up on het lap to brush to the smooth tips.

Arya had always been so enthralled by her lady mothers hair. It was so unlike her own; plain and brown and straight. Where as her mothers' was a beautiful red and had a simple wave to it that bounced whenever she walked.

Catelyn clenched her eyes shut tight and held her breath as Arya got carried away and yanked and pulled at her hair with the comb. There were a few small knots here and there that needed to come undone and Arya saw fit to brush them all out. Though she forgot that her mother was tender headed and didn't seem to notice her when she winced and scrunched up her face.

When Arya was satisfied, she divided up three pieces and made a solid long braid to keep the hair from messing up again why her mother slept. 

The fire was burning low by the time Arya finished, it casted the room in a dim yellowish red light. For a moment, Catelyn's hair seemed as red as the leaves that hung on the weirwoods. Arya'a face fell. One day, she'd have hair as red as the leaves in the godswood, maybe then she'd be beautiful like Sansa or her mother.

Catelyn stands and looks down at Arya with a sleepy smile on her lips. "Thank you sweetling," Arya hugs her mothers legs tightly. Catelyn smoothes the hair atop her head and says "Now hurry and get to your room, you're lord father will be back from his solar soon enough and he won't be pleased to see you here after hours." Arya nods, "Alright mother, goodnight."

"May the Gods watch over your dreams."

**

She's up early and is already bugging the life out of one of the kitchen maids to make her a round of bacon and eggs with some maple syrup and toasted bread. Arya stuffs her face in the kitchens and nearly chokes when she sees Septa Mordane in front of her eyeing her unbraided hair, head shaking from side to side and a sponge and rag in either hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: She doesn't like her hair being brushed like Sansa does, but she loves brushing her mother's hair.
> 
> Bonus if she's a unintentionally a little rough, but Catelyn puts up with it because she loves her baby girl.


End file.
